


A Piece of His Soul

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Cannibalism, Complicated Relationships, Cornelius Hickey Is His Own Warning, Episode: s01e09 The C the C the Open C, Hand Jobs, Implied Cornelius Hickey/William Gibson, Implied Solomon Tozer/William Heather, M/M, Missing Scene, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: Hickey's lips might have been cold, but his tongue promised warmth, along with so much else, and it was better than sleeping in an ice ditch, at any rate.
Relationships: Cornelius Hickey/Sgt Solomon Tozer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18
Collections: Darkest Night 2020





	A Piece of His Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/gifts).



When he lay with Hickey, beneath the soft wolf blanket, Tozer felt as if the man breathed in a piece of his soul with each stolen kiss - even if he was the one who gave it so willingly. Hickey's lips might have been cold, but his tongue promised warmth, along with so much else, and it was better than sleeping in an ice ditch, at any rate. The crumpled lieutenant's jacket in the corner of the tent, just outside of Tozer's line of vision, made him uneasy, ever since the day he caught a glimpse of the arctic sun through more holes than there were buttons.

 _Out of sight, out of mind._ It was astounding really, what man could convince himself of if he simply didn't listen or look too hard. Sometimes he'd tell himself that they might still come upon a convenient wreck, packed with perfectly preserved supplies so that they wouldn't have to continue making the choice between fighting over old, stale biscuit crumbs and who got to eat which parts of the gangly steward with the curly hair (Hickey had had dibs on the heart).

Aye, Hickey's lips were cold, but there was a heated, almost feverish quality to his kisses, at odds with the very controlled, very deliberate way he was stroking Tozer's cock through layer upon layer of clothing. It was never enough to get him off, but just adequate to wind him up enough that he'd nip at Hickey's bottom lip with his teeth and feel that awful smile spreading to his cheeks. But to be entirely honest, he got the feeling that, for Hickey, this was all pretty tame. Tozer rolled on top of him, torn between fumbling with buttons and rutting against Hickey's skinny thigh.

"Eager, aren't we?" Hickey pulled back, licking his lips, and Tozer would have sworn he'd never seen anyone look so smug in his life. There was something far more obscene about that than the fact that Hickey's chilly fingers had found their way beneath his layers, nails biting into his hip. Being touched by another person was just one way to feel alive, to remind himself that he was more than a hungry ghost, forever lost in a frozen wasteland.

(He had his doubts after Collins, but Tozer hoped that, somehow, Heather had felt his touch when he took the time to clip his nails and trim his whiskers.)

Hickey nipped at his neck, then, and Tozer groaned into the coppery nest of his hair, still struggling with the buttons until Hickey's deft hands made quick work of them. Too quick.

"Perhaps 'eager' was an understatement, Sol." Even with his fingers wrapped around Tozer's cock, Hickey's overfamiliarity rubbed him the wrong way. Unfortunately, that didn't diminish any of the ill-advised attraction he felt towards the man, nor did it change the fact that 'eager' had indeed been an understatement. He cursed as he came, spilling over Hickey's hand, earning another of those insufferable, yet strangely tolerable smiles. He never _saw_ Hickey come, which he suspected was deliberate, though he'd heard his ragged breaths and felt his whole body shudder against his on more than one occasion. It shouldn't really have mattered.

Tozer flopped over onto the ground, adjusting the furs to cover himself, despite the film of sweat coating his forehead, drenching his hair. It smelled sweet, _unsavoury_ even, like death. He resigned himself to the fact that Hickey may have been rubbing off on him in more ways than one. After all, he'd eaten that steward's flesh alongside the others. _Billy._ The man's name had been Billy. He'd heard Hickey speaking to him in hushed tones before the mutiny, and after. Billy had called him _Cornelius,_ which Tozer still couldn't bring himself to do. Hickey was just Hickey. He nuzzled Tozer's neck, his beard scratching against the flesh he'd sunk his teeth into only moments ago, leaving it red and raw. It wasn't the first time, and Tozer would sleep with one eye open.

Because he knew damn well it wouldn't be the last.


End file.
